


Beautiful Despair

by sinsajo



Series: One Word Prompts [3]
Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Blood, Death, Despair, Gen, Gore, I'm Sorry, M/M, POV Second Person, SDR2 Spoilers, SHSL Despair - Freeform, Torture, all that bad stuff, before sdr2, or good stuff......, someone kills someone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 08:23:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4997671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinsajo/pseuds/sinsajo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before anything else, some warnings: Gore, blood, patricide and torture. Don't read if you can't stomach that! This has low-key SDR2 end game spoilers. --<br/>--<br/>Set before the events of Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Super High School Level Despair Gundam Tanaka decides to watch from a priviledged front row view as his lover finally gets rid of what is left of his own family, for the sake of Ultimate Despair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Despair

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing anything involving the whole shsl despair thing, so I'm still getting the hang of how it works (like the entire concept of Junko's despair cult). So, if there's anything you might want to comment to help me get on the right track for next time, I'd appreciate it! 
> 
> Based on the prompt: Cruelty.  
> Second Person from Gundam's point of view, just to clarify.

You lift your head towards the sudden sound of something like a twig snapping in half violently, and a small smile plays on your lips before you erase it from your face on purpose. The long, strained whine of the exhausted man replaces the silence after that distinct sound, and you find the interest within yourself to lock eyes with the man and admire the level of agony present in his dark eyes, eyes of the same dark shade that Kazuichi used to hide under his contact lenses, eyes of the same beautiful and disgusting shape as the ones the mechanic holds on his now almost unrecognizable, distorted face.

“P-please… please, kill me…” You hear the pain, the exhaustion and despair in that older voice, and you only now realize he’s looking at you. He’s begging _you_ to stop what Kazuichi has started and doesn’t plan on ending any time soon. The thought that he has to recur to a complete stranger for mercy at this point, and to one that looks and smells like death itself, is so despairing that you cannot hold back your smile any longer. Your smile becomes so wide it hurts your cheeks. That twisted smile then turns into outright laughter at the man, and the sorrow in his lost, bloodshot eyes when he looks away defeated almost makes you moan.

“You enjoying yourself?” You hear Kazuichi’s amused voice, strained and despairing despite that. You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or his father, and you don’t really care. Maybe you actually did moan out loud.

You watch him as he lets go of the limp, deformed arm he had in his hands a moment ago, an action that earns him an agonizing scream from his father, and you watch him bend down to grab the only unbroken limb the older man has in his entire body. His left arm.

“Please please _pleASE PLEASE **PLEASE**_ -!” The endless row of panicked whispers fills the room like a mantra, and you wonder if he’s trying to focus on his own voice to avoid feeling the pain he damn well knows is coming. “Son, please- AAAHHH!” The delicious sound of bones breaking in half fills the small living room again alongside with racking sobs that you notice aren’t even coming from the right Souda. You can see the thick and endless tears flowing down Kazuichi’s face, and you think that he has never looked more beautiful, gorgeously dressed entirely in the most excruciating despair that his heart has ever known. You love it, love it, love it, love it and hate it all at the same time, having to watch this man you had grown to consider your lover during highschool torture his father for the hell of it. He’s just supposed to murder him for all you know. All of this extra work is coming from his own putrid, broken and merciless heart. He has internalized so much of Junko’s words and teaching and orders that it’s as if he no longer needs explicit orders to do something like this and go to extremes. It’s like he knows this is just what he’s supposed to do. He instinctively just _knows_ what path leads to the most despair-inducing outcome and follows it down to the letter, and it makes you feel jealous. You hear another scream, another plea and another sob and you feel jealous again because you can’t do something like this. You have already tracked down your father and have murdered him and the other family he chose over you and your mother when you hadn’t even been born yet, but that didn’t bring you any despair. Not the kind you wanted to feel.

You’re torn out of your thoughts when you see Kazuichi slap his father almost gently. The man seems to be almost unconscious, and you try to imagine the pain he must be feeling, and that twisted grin takes over your features yet again. It must feel so, so deliciously excruciating. He must feel so betrayed. So lost and confused.

You see Kazuichi shove his hand in his pocket to take out his blood crusted screw driver, and you search your own pockets to find a cigarette to enjoy the rest of the show. He looks your way when he hears the lighter burn the edge of the white cylinder, and he smiles sensually before getting up and making his way towards you. You uncross your legs and adjust your body on the hard couch you’re sitting at, and welcome him closer to you with a hand crawling over to his hips softly. He leans down and takes the cigarette from your lips, attempting a cautious suck on the filter that ends up in a loud cough and a chuckle. You can’t help the soft smile you give him when he leans down even lower and kisses your dry, bruised lips, because he smells of motor oil, sweat and fresh blood and the mixture has become so familiar that it almost makes you feel a twisted sense of safety.

He abruptly leans away from you to give you back your cigarette and grip his screw driver so tightly in his hand that his knuckles turn white, and you know he’s finally ready to get it done with.

He lifts his weapon in the air and looks down at his father’s mangled and bloody body, a body that probably looks so different from it’s healthy version that it must be hard to recognize even for Kazuichi. And he hesitates.

“Are you in despair, Souda?” You ask him calmly and casually, as if you were asking what he did during the weekend. You let out the warm, pungent smoke from your lungs slowly, and he locks eyes with you.

He doesn’t respond. Looks back down and grunts loudly.

His face is splattered with rich red, the harmonious mixture of laughter and sobbing answering your question as you close your eyes to enjoy the chaotic melody, your heart fluttering as your ears feast on screams and revolting wet sounds of metal piercing chunks of live flesh.

 


End file.
